


how longingly i look upon you

by tenderthings



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fictober 2017, Light Angst, Post-Dragon Age II, Purple Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 19:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12489180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderthings/pseuds/tenderthings
Summary: People like Hawke are few and wide, but he can imagine all of them grand and intoxicating in their own ways. She herself knew in some small, terribly vain way, how alluring she really was.(for the prompt: "'You will love them in the end,' they said.")





	how longingly i look upon you

**Author's Note:**

> title is an excerpt from "To a Stranger" by Walt Whitman, one of my favorite poems. give it a read ❤️
> 
> also posted on my tumblr! [ (x) ](http://elfapostate.tumblr.com/post/166267133127/prompt-you-will-love-them-in-the-end-like-they)

 

* * *

 

Hawke is an enigma and that is how history will remember her. Fenris comes to realize this in the small hours of the day.

It’s too complicated of a thought to have first thing in the morning. The sentiment is sluggish at best, nothing but muddled words out of a dream he recites over and over again in his head.

He’s yet to move from where he lays—on his stomach, arm out-stretched as if something slipped away as he slept.

The day ahead is cold and damp. Last night’s campfire is nothing but cinders. Recently, he is only able to slumber a few hours at a time and often outdoors, but even so, he still expects to wake up in a fine, red-velvet bed, well-rested with a body by his side. Instead, he is alone and his lover is far away.

...Dead, perhaps, but there is very little in this world that she will not gladly fight and even less that can meet her enthusiasm.

She is almost maniacal, he thinks with a smile—a firebrand of her own making, with all of the spirit and none of the intent. If he had known what she would become the day they met, he would have thought twice before falling into step. However, the dye was set long before he entered her life. No one, but the witch on the mountain could’ve divined such a prophecy.

People like Hawke are few and wide, but he can imagine all of them grand and intoxicating in their own ways. She herself knew in some small, terribly vain way, how alluring she really was.

“You will love me in the end,” she said, drunk and close and warm. She had laughed at the scowl on his face and merely shoved him, as friends do.

She had kept on laughing before floating away, onto another game, another conversation, Fenris entirely forgotten in her stupor.

The memory makes him feel warm, both from embarrassment and fondness. He didn’t think of himself as her friend, then. He didn’t think of himself as anything of Hawke’s, even though he was hers long before she was his.

Once everything is said and done, he knows history will dedicate Hawke as many things, but never as the woman of that night.

That woman, when her hair was long and her smile was bright, commanded something in him that took Fenris years to accept.

It felt like fealty, but moved him with kindness. It spoke like a summoning, but was meant as a question. It was good and gentle and entirely unlike the figure that left Kirkwall in its smoldering state. Hawke will be remembered for that—

And the unknown truth will be that  _Hawke_ was the softest thing he ever got to love.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> taking requests! [ @elfapostate ](http://elfapostate.tumblr.com/%22)


End file.
